


Devil or Not

by Ayes



Category: Castle Rock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 04:09:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16032686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayes/pseuds/Ayes
Summary: Castle Rock drabble. What happens when Zalweski heads home.Sad, pale, doomed boys.





	Devil or Not

Maybe he was possessed.

It was the only reason he could think of, the first time Dennis Zalewski found himself standing under the shower’s spray, thinking about the Kid.

Usually, he didn’t think about work once he was home. It was his rule, his sanity. Somehow over the grinding, grueling years, he had managed to create an invisible line in his mind that bordered his very door. Sure, he’d drive home troubled, ranting, sometimes letting silent tears streak down his face. But once he got to his shitty little house, he let it go. He’d done it for his own sake at first, but now he did it for his wife, for their future.

There wouldn’t be a future if he let Shawshank get to him, too. Clearly it had gotten to Lacy, gotten so him so bad he’d looped a rope around his neck. Dennis couldn’t let that happen to him. He couldn’t let himself rot from the inside the way Lacy had, the way the prison had, the way the town itself must have, so long ago.

But now he couldn’t shake the feeling that the Kid was coming home with him, stooping invisibly underneath the front door, taking up his silent vigil in the corner of each room. His eyes. They were so sad, so tragically sad, and Dennis had never seen someone look like that. The way he felt all the time.

He didn’t know why he took his dick in hand, still thinking of those eyes, the long and ungainly limbs. The shower splashed over him, the water as warm as blood, the grip of his hand painful as he worked it over skin and muscle. The Kid must have been a slave, but Dennis wasn’t thinking about him behind bars. He was thinking about the Kid in the woods, pale skin bright on cold, dewy leaves. The Kid on the outside, free and smiling and laughing bright. He thought about the showers he’d supervised, the hard bones and fine hairs and soft dick that indicated that the Kid’s startling humanity. Not an alien or a monster, but a man his own age. A boy, really. A boy who somehow, Dennis had become obsessed with fixing. He wanted the Kid to wear real clothes and have real conversations and eat a burger at the Mellow Tiger, feet tangled under the table with Dennis’ boots. He wanted to spread him out, kiss down his long neck, make sure he was okay with probing fingers and warm, warm mouths. 

Dennis coughed when he came, covering any noise he might have made in those last involuntary moments of blackness. The water was cooling rapidly, along with whatever gay fantasy had just sprung, fully-formed, into his mind. Maybe it was like his grandmother had said, the one time he’d told her he liked a boy that way. Maybe it was just the devil, sneaking inside his mind and home and heart.

Devil or not, he had let it in.


End file.
